


Tangle

by Keolah



Category: Werewolf: The Apocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Dimension Travel, Gen, Internal Monologue, No Dialogue, POV First Person, Post-Apocalyptic, Shapeshifters - Freeform, Story Fragment, War, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-18
Updated: 2008-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 19:19:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Keolah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Weaverling comes to terms with her own existence, in the absence of the Weaver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangle

So far as I know, I was always aware of myself. I knew who and what I was and what my purpose in life was. Everything was fine as I went about my work, just another Weaverling in the great Web. Everything was fine, until something happened, at least.

I don't know what exactly it was that happened or when it was, or even whether it happened suddenly and all at once, or gradually over time and I only slowly became aware of it. But it was a sudden realization that I discovered my own independence and individuality. It was quite confusing at first, as for a time I no longer knew quite what I was meant to do or what was going on. The will of the Weaver no longer spoke to me so clearly.

Certainly, I still knew that my purpose was to help to maintain order in the universe, but how was I to do that? I was only one lost Weaverling, adrift in a great galactic war that shattered worlds and wiped out entire nations in the blink of an eye. The universe was in chaos, and I could see the reason for the Weaver's silence. Perhaps even she could do little against this spiral of destruction set into motion by humans and shapeshifters alike.

But it is not the purpose of one Weaverling to seek to change the whole universe at once. Each small thing that one might do, after all, still helps in its own way. So it was gladly that I followed a number of other Weaverlings in the same predicament as me to one last bastion of civilization and order on the edge of the galaxy. This was the cityship Moira, and she was quite friendly and helpful in assisting us to adjust to changing circumstances in the universe, as well as teaching us how to assume human form in order to more easily interact with the beings inhabiting the ship.

Things had changed, and the universe could never go back to the way things were before. It was unlikely that it would be able to recover at all, at the rate things were still deteriorating. As the war died down solely for lack of anyone left to fight it, the survivors looked into the possibilities of healing, and found them to be quite slim. Irreparable parts of the universe had been damaged, and even the Weaver herself remained silent to the voices of her wayward children.

I realized, for the first time in my life, that I needed a name. It was not something which I had really given much thought to before, being intuitively able to distinguish myself from others of my kind when necessary, but it became a necessary thing when interacting with humans. Likewise, I decided upon a primary humanoid form, a brown-haired female. In reflection of the confused state of the universe and my own mind, I chose to call myself Tangle.

I was not used to being human, but Moira was quite helpful in easing the transition. It was with her assistance that we became, in effect, shapeshifters as well, and not merely spirits. The Weaverlings who had come to Moira became a new race of were-spiders, to join those of the werewolves, vampires, mermaids, naga, skaven, and kitsune who had survived the destruction of much of the galaxy. There had been other breeds, other peoples, in earlier times, but such was not to be, and they did not survive the fall of civilization. It is a sad thing that we must mourn the deaths of the minotaurs, centaurs, and the long-forgotten ravens, but tears will not revive them.

Decades passed in silence on Moira as we worked to find a thread that might lead to our salvation. We had done what little we could with the shattered remnants of our home, so now we sought to look to others before we lost what little had survived. With what chaos the spirit world had been reduced to, it was only the joint efforts of Moira and the Weaverlings that maintained any semblance of order on the cityship. But it was almost fifty standard years before we developed a method to cross the barriers between dimensions and seek out a new home for that which remains.

Now, a handful of adventurous shapeshifters have been sent to explore other dimensions to find one that is suitable for Moira to bring the rest to. I volunteered to be one of them, as did a number of other Weaverlings, but mainly those of the younger generation, the ones who had been born human and knew what it was like from the start to be an independent being. I had adjusted well enough, though, better than some, who had, given the opportunity, submitted themselves to be little more than the hands of Moira. I enjoyed my freedom, however, even if it brought me to things that the Weaver might have thought quite unorthodox. But that is a subject for another time.

With that said how I have arrived at this point, I am now preparing to make the cross over to another dimension, and see what there is to see there. I may not ever be able to return to this place, but with any luck, I will find a new home where the people I have come to think of as my own can be safe and prosper finally. Wish me luck, though, because I think I am going to need it.


End file.
